


The Rise and Fall of Justinian Pickles and Colossal Hoax

by pattie_vorta



Category: Original Work
Genre: Glam Rock, hi pattie fandom pleas e start stanning my characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29729370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pattie_vorta/pseuds/pattie_vorta
Summary: A glam rock band in the early 70s tries to become Famous but they are too silly :((
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> pianano disaster and grocery store adventure.

The band had recently finished recording our first album, and the studio piano was being moved out for repairs. I stood outside with the rest of the band, drinking a cold water bottle and  
feeling very fancy (it was the expensive flavour of water). They were having a conversation that  
I tuned out of, all my attention on the beautiful piano being lifted in the sunlight. I accidently made the mistake of walking forward into the man moving the piano, causing him to trip and the piano to topple over, hitting the ground with a snap followed by a crash.   
“Ah, fuck! You fuckin’ broke it, you twat!,” our keyboardist, Gord, yelled, spilling my expensive water while running over to the piano.   
A string of apologies was muttered by both me and the worker. “Oh, god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know how this happened, oh dear, oh no…,” he gave some excuse, and went off in his truck, presumably to get some help. Now that I think back, he probably was just as upset and confused by the situation as we were, and luckily, had a chance to escape. Unfortunately, we did not.   
Del, the drummer, knelt down to try to mend it. “Justinian what did you do to our lovely piano…”   
Gord got over his momentary rage and responded, “Well, at least it wasn’t my organ.”   
“Don’t make us vandalise it again,” I smirked, hitting his shoulder playfully.   
The three of us stood in front of the wreckage in silence. It must have been quite a scene.   
Our bassist, Angeline, or “Glitter Glam,” as she was called on stage (it was a kind of stupid name considering it was the name of the genre of music we make), and our guitarist, Jerry, had run off about a month ago. We were hoping they would return, but Angeline was a chaotic soul and Jerry could easily be dragged anywhere.  
“What’re we gonna do?” Del sighed.   
Gord said simply, picking up a chunk of piano, “Put this in the van and find someone that can fix it.”  
“Dude, what the fuck, you just.. You made it worse,” she looked to him in disappointment.   
The only option I saw here was to go with his plan, as I couldn’t and refused to try to think of anything better. Del gave up her superiority act and helped us pick up the piano and threw it in the back of Gord’s van, essentially ruining any chance of ever fixing it without some kind of miracle. We all had our own idea about how this whole thing was to be executed, for example, I thought we would be getting in the van and driving to a music store, maybe the one a few miles away, but no, the reliable and dependable man that was our keyboardist decided to drive straight ahead until the answers “came to him”. The answers, apparently, were at a bar in a part of the city I’ve never visited.   
“Uh, I don’t think this is gonna help us,” I mentioned nervously, catching up with Gord while he was walking into the bar.   
Del looked around and shrugged, “I don’t know, someone here might know where to get that bitch fixed, hell, there might even be a piano repair man.”  
I walked up to the microphone on stage and decided to take action. “Anyone in here fix pianos?” The people of the bar looked at me in confusion before going back to their drinks and conversations. “Ah, I guess not. Thanks anyway!”   
I sat down at a table with my two friends, to think of a better solution. We ended up staring at each other for a few minutes and deciding there’s nothing to be thought of in a place like this. I pointed out that we had no idea how to get home, and should find a place to spend the night. We found ourselves at a cheap motel, paying for two rooms with the money from our last show. Del suggested we find Angeline and Jerry in the morning, which we probably should have thought of earlier.   
“What, are they gonna fix the piano?” Gord asked, reminding us of the initial problem. “They’re gonna be pissed if they see it and find out that we didn’t get it fixed and instead dragged it half way across the goddamn country.”   
“It’s not our piano,” Del added.   
My eyes widened in realisation. “We stole a piano.”  
“Now we have to find Jerry and Angeline, they wouldn’t wanna miss this. Colossal Hoax, live in prison.” Gord laughed.   
I used the phone in the hotel room to call Jerry, who was the most likely to be home out of the two. It was discovered through this conversation that Angeline was taking a short break from the band to pursue “other interests,” mainly taking a vacation with some money she had saved up. Jerry, however, told me he wouldn’t mind coming over to help us, and maybe even bring a professional of some kind to handle the piano. With a possible solution to the conflict that we had begun the day with, the three of us were able to get a good night’s rest.   
The next morning, a knock on the door woke me up. Assuming it was Jerry, I went to open it. Before I got to the door, I was accosted by a large object.   
“The hell do you think you’re doing? Trying to open the door without checking who it is the day after we commit a federal crime?” Gord whispered, fully prepared to throw another pillow at me.   
I was sure he was being paranoid, after all, I wasn’t even sure we committed a crime in the first place, we didn’t steal anything on purpose. I opened the door… and saw an impatient looking police officer.   
“Oh, uh- hi? What- why?”   
The officer rolled his eyes. “There was an incident. Did you hear gunshots or anything suspicious?”   
“Gunshots?! Oh, wow, that wasn’t us, we sure didn’t hear any of that, right, fellas?”   
Del and Gord nodded happily, their fake smiles backing up my story to his satisfaction. I closed the door with a slight slam.   
“Never call us “fellas” again,” Gord warned.   
Before I could answer, I heard frantic knocking on the window. I pulled back the curtain and saw a tall, distressed man, with an awful amount of leaves in his hair. “Jerry?!”   
I opened the window to let him in, and asked for an explanation as soon he shook the foliage off.   
“Man, I almost got shot! Why’re you staying in a crackhead place like this!? Good lord.”   
My first thought was of course, the well being of the piano, not Jerry. “Did you bring a piano fixer?”  
Gord stopped him from answering. “Explain to us first how you got yourself shot? Can’t we trust you on your own, kid?”   
“Well I saw these two guys doin’ some sorta drug, so naturally I informed them of the horrible things drugs do to you!”   
This landed Jerry a lecture lasting about forty-five minutes before we booked it out of the place. Still without a fix to our problem, as our lovely but lacking of brain cells guitarist hadn’t been able to find anyone of use, we ventured onward. Del suggested we go into the next city, that would require a lengthy drive through some rather pleasant scenery. Gord agreed to drive and we were on our way. I was stuck in the backseat of the van with Jerry, who was reading a big book about architecture… or maybe it was agriculture… something of that boring nature. It was the perfect moment to write a song or two, so I took out my notebook and started writing down ideas. By the time I had some sort of outline worked out, Gord announced that we had arrived in the city. We soon spotted a music store, and headed in like a line of elementary school students.   
“What can I help you with?” the woman behind the counter asked in the typical way one doing this type of work would.   
I prepared myself to be professional. “How do ya, uhm, fix a broken piano? Like it’s bad broken… it’s fuckin’ decimated.”   
She looked a bit shocked. “Do you have it with you?”   
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get it.” I turned around.  
“No, no, I’ll come out and have a look.”   
I led her out to the van, the rest of the band staying behind to look at instruments, because they are musicians after all. While opening the back, which caused quite a loud noise due to my lack of experience opening vans, I gave a quick summary of the incident, turning it into a complete oral history of the band.   
She looked more than a bit shocked. “Sir, this might not be fixable.”   
“Ah, can’t you just glue it back?”  
“It would be much easier to just buy a new one.”   
I nodded. This made sense. I should have thought of this before we came all the way out here with a piano that wasn’t ours. After some farewells and thank yous we were back in the van, at a complete loss what to do next.   
“Should we… Call the owner of the piano?” Jerry asked, breaking the silence.   
“Who’s the owner, then?” Gord responded, invested in the idea.  
I added what information I could. “Oh, I think it belongs to the studio.”  
“Who’s the owner, then?” repeated Gord.   
“Of the studio? Well, I don’t know.” I paused a moment. “With all this confusion wouldn’t it be best to return it and apologise for any trouble we caused?”  
After much discussion it was agreed that we drive all the way back to the studio. I was in the back with Jerry again, who had finished his book and kept trying to climb over me to have a conversation with Del. As one would imagine, it was becoming difficult to get back into my songwriting groove with this going on.   
I tapped his arm in annoyance. “Would you please calm down?”   
He did not calm down. “I’m sorry, but I’m having a super important argument here!”  
I put down my notebook. “What could possibly be so important?”   
“Del doesn’t like musicals and frankly she is wrong.”  
“That’s an opinion, how can it be wrong?” I made the mistake of replying.   
This led into a violent discussion on why Broadway musicals were bad and followed by one concluding they were, in fact, good. By the time we reached the studio, the band was unofficially broken up and we were all ready to go to the press with this.   
Our manager, Stanley Norman, was talking to an engineer in front of the studio when he noticed us. “Where have you been?” he demanded, surprised to see us.   
I immediately forgave my fellow band members and through a combination of mouthing and arm motions attempted to communicate to Jerry that he needed to unload the piano, because there was no way I was taking the blame for anything. He hopped out with a smile on his face, opened the back, and rolled the piano out.   
Stanley took a step back and squeaked, “Wh… What’s this?”   
Jerry silently creeped back into the van and closed the door.   
“Come back out here, young man, you aren’t leaving without explaining this!”   
“Hey,” I say loudly enough for our manager to hear, “You know what we’ve never done as a band?”  
“Have a successful single, go a single day outside of the studio without a major fuck up, I mean, have we even released an album?” Gord answered.  
Stanley walked up to the window. “Yes, actually, we just recently did that! Why don’t we discuss-”   
“We haven’t had a car chase!” I yelled, rolling up the window.   
“Oh, no, no, we’re not using my van in a car chase!” Gord refused, crossing his arms.   
I didn’t want to give our competitor an advantage, so I hopped over the seats, knocking the driver over, and hit the gas. I looked into the mirror and saw Stanley in his new expensive sports car, following us. I realised a second too late that Jerry neglected to close the back of the van.   
“Hey, uh, we didn’t have any equipment left in the back of there, did we?” I asked as casually as possible, speeding out of the parking lot.   
My question was answered when Gord managed to push me out of the front seat and hit the breaks and an amplifier crashed into the car behind us. I looked back, the damage wasn’t too bad, but it definitely wasn't any better than the piano.  
I groaned, “Great, another disaster.”   
Stanley stepped out of his car to assess the situation. My first thought was to send Jerry to speak with him but he didn’t deserve the manager’s wrath.   
“Whoever had the idea to start the car chase should apologise to Stanley,” I announced my very fair and reasonable idea to the rest of the band. I was met only with disappointed stares and I remembered that not only was it my idea, I was the one who executed it. In silence I hopped out and approached him.   
Stanley looked from his car to me. “Justinian, I assume this is your doing.”   
“Yessir, I take the full blame. I’m very sorry.”   
“Do you plan to pay for this?”  
“Yes! Yes. I will get the money. I will pay for it.”   
I sat in the car as Gord drove us home, looking over at me whenever I made a sudden movement.   
“I’m not going to hijack it again.”  
“They all say that.”   
He dropped me off at my house first, most likely to get rid of me as soon as possible. I sat down to formulate an idea. After a long while of sitting, it was finally time to start formulating. I asked myself, how could we, a band, get money fast? I didn’t want to overthink it, so I went to bed so I could have a fresh view in the morning.   
When I woke up, I called Jerry for a little help with my thought process. “Hey, how do we get money fast?”  
“Like those commercials on the telly?”   
“No, something we can actually do.”  
“You can’t watch commercials?”  
“I don’t- you know what I mean you’re just being difficult.”  
“We could do that thing we do, maybe, the thing where we get up on the stage or in the studio and sing and play instruments. Kinda is our job.”  
“That’s brilliant.”  
“Did you actually not think of that? Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one? With the glasses and all that?”  
I roll my eyes and wrap up the conversation. Maybe if we had a new song, we could do something with that. I looked at my notebook I’ve been writing in and sigh, none of the words go together right. It’s always been Angeline or Jerry who wrote the songs, but I wanted to try since I never felt useful enough just singing. Any of them could sing, why keep me around? I knew we’d get money if the album sold but that wouldn’t be fast enough. If I couldn’t write songs we could do some shows instead. I stopped to think about calling our manager, but not only was he pissed at me, he never got much done in the way of… anything, really. I never found out why we hired such an imcompentant person. “Where do people have concerts?” I asked myself, opening the fridge and finding it empty. I repeated the question to myself at the grocery store. Do people have concerts at grocery stores? That would be a pretty progressive thing, wouldn’t it? I bet King Crimson never had a concert in a grocery store.   
“Hey, can my band and I have a concert here?”  
The cashier rang up my apples and brownie mix and mumbled, “Sure, have a nice day.”   
It was a successful trip. I went around in my car and gathered everyone up in my living room.   
“Guys, I have a solution,” I announced to the band, handing out brownies.   
“This better be good,” said Del, taking three.  
“I followed the instructions and everything so they should be.”  
“What? Not the brownies, your solution.”  
“Oh, yeah, of course. We’re gonna do a show in the grocery store.”  
“When is this, exactly?” Gord asked skeptically.  
“Whenever I say so!”   
“So if we went there now and started plugging in shit they’d be fine with it?”  
“Yep!”  
We packed everything in the van, except for the broken amp that I never got back from where it was embedded in the windshield of Stanley’s car. I told the band we could play the songs from the album so I wasn’t expected to show anything I’ve been writing, which was really nothing at all. We didn’t live far from the store, so we arrived sooner than I hoped because we weren't very prepared.   
“How are we going to get paid from this? People don’t pay to go in a grocery store,” Del said, reminding me just how unprepared we were.   
“Shit, you’re right.”  
“I can fix it!” Jerry yelled, running off to fix it.   
Del smiled, “There he goes. Um, who’s gonna play bass?”   
This was my chance to prove I have another use in the band!   
“Why don’t we worry about Jerry for the moment? We can’t just send that boy off into the world,” protested Gord who was acting as our roadie, putting all the equipment on a cart to be brought inside.   
I walked inside, prepared to be asked questions like the celebrity I was. Then I remembered we didn’t have time to put any ads in the paper or in the tv or anywhere for that matter, so no one knew this was happening except for the kind cashier who had given us the permission that he probably didn’t have authority to. Do the owners of the store even know we’re here? There’s Jerry.   
“What are you doing?”  
“I’m selecting someone to stand at the door and collect money.” he answered, gazing at the fruit section.   
“Is the someone going to be a fruit?”  
“I’m thinking the guy picking out strawberries. Hey! Strawberry man!”  
The man turned around, surprised.   
“Come here!”  
He hesitated. “Are you gonna kidnap me?”  
“Maybe!”   
I intervened. “He’s not gonna kidnap you, we just need some help with something.”  
He came over, looking a little curious.   
I could tell Jerry was satisfied everything was going correctly. “Stand at the door and collect- how much are we thinking, Justinian?”  
“I’m not thinking anything, I have no idea how much concerts cost.”  
“How have we come so far without finding this out?”  
“We’ve always let someone else be in charge of this! The mistakes of fame…”  
“We have not come that far and we are not famous,” Gord said. I didn’t notice before but he had come in with me and was on the phone.   
I told the strawberry man the first number that came to my mind, which was five, and sat down on a bench with Jerry to wait for Gord to put down the phone and the equipment. Strawberry Man, whose name I would not be asking, stationed himself and explained to the people coming in that there was a very exclusive concert going on and they were lucky to get in for only five pounds. I took a deep breath before engaging the next topic and then asked Gord who he was on the phone with.   
“Angeline,” he told me, hanging up.   
“Did our Glitter Glam finally decide to contact us?”  
“More or less. She said she’ll be here soon, God knows what that could mean.”   
“That’s wonderful. Now, go, go! Set up.”   
He wheeled the stuff away, complaining about why we couldn’t have hired literally anyone else to do this. I let the time get away while everyone else worked (or shopped). The automatic doors whooshed open and Angeline walked through, wearing a ridiculous coat. I heard Del explain to her what we were doing. She sat down next to me, as keen to not help as I was.   
“Where have you been?”  
“Aw, I know you missed me. I was in France. Didn’t Jerry tell you? He was with me earlier.”  
I scoffed. “France? How’d you get back here so quickly?”  
“I was already on my way! I know where my responsibilities lie.”   
“Hello, Angel! I knew you’d make some miraculous entrance, we couldn’t do this without a bassist.” Jerry said happily, swinging by with paper in hand, busy with some task.  
“What were you doing in France, Jerry, without telling us?”  
“We were just having fun,” he explained.  
“We could have had fun together, as a band.”  
“Maybe we should all take a holiday,” he suggested.  
“You already went off and had one!” I told him, though it didn’t sound like a bad idea.   
“I wasn’t finished having a holiday,” he insisted.   
“I could've done it- the bass, y’know.” I lied, changing the subject.   
Jerry paused his task. “Oh, you learned how to play bass?”  
“Not exactly, but I still could've done it.”   
“Whatever you say, darling,” Angeline laughed, pulling her coat tighter. “Why is it always so cold in grocery stores?”  
“So you’ll buy more food. To keep you warm,” Jerry said, knowingly.  
I nodded along with his story, happy that we were together having silly conversations again. At least I think he was joking. “What are you up to anyway?”  
“Making a poster to put on the door so more people will come in. How do you spell Gord’s name? It’s G-o-u-r-d, right?”   
Gord looked to him with disbelief. “How long have you known me, Jerry? How long?”   
“I-is it not that? Am I incorrect?”   
“No! Gord is short for Gordon, you idiot.”  
He furiously scribbled with a red marker and walked backwards to the door to hang the poster up. “Thank you, I won’t make this mistake again.”   
Angeline moved to the equipment to tune her bass and I followed her, looking for something to do. Staring at things wasn’t helping anyone, so I found Del, who was looking for a hairbrush in what I believe is called the woman aisle. I let her do my hair and assigned her the temporary job of hair and makeup. Soon everything was ready, except for the lights. The bright grocery store lights did not go with the mood our music created in any way. I made sure my microphone was turned on and ran off to find where they kept the light switch. It was in the very back of the store, and I tripped over a few things on the way back since I couldn’t see.   
Finally, our concert was ready to begin. The crowd in the store was interested, which was good. The entire time I was thinking they might just leave as soon as we started playing, but Gord played the intro to the first song and they looked at us with excitement. We went through all the songs as perfectly as possible, with Jerry going up front and being dramatic for every solo. However, Angeline’s bass solo turned out to be more popular with the audience. After the show I looked through the audience to see if anyone wanted me to sign anything. No one did, but I handed a napkin with my signature on it to anyone who looked like they deserved it. I noticed Angeline sneak out the front door with a girl. I caught Gord trying to do the same and offered to help with the equipment. He sent me off to do it myself.   
I was halfway across the parking lot, pushing the cart and looking up at the stars. I heard the clopclop of footsteps, Jerry was walking towards me.   
“Had fun in there?” I asked, taking a break from the instrument transportation.   
“Del and I were just socializing with our new fans.”  
“You think we got new fans?”  
“Yeah, sure. You having fun out here?” he asked, hopping up on the cart as I continued pushing.   
The following day we met up again, this time at Jerry’s house, in his beautiful garden. Because we had done something without help from anyone else and didn’t fail miserably, I was very satisfied.   
“I’m very proud of us,” Gord announced.  
Del agreed, “Me too, we nailed this.”  
“I always knew we’d be a great band,” said Angeline, who was a few feet away, dancing around with Jerry and a butterfly.   
Now, the question was, what were we going to do next? We informed Stanley that the concert. Although he was annoyed we didn’t tell him first, he was happy that we were getting something done. He encouraged us to keep it up then left the room with no more explanation. We had around half the money we needed to pay for his car. This meant I was going to have to organise another event.   
I wanted to perform at a music festival. Instead of going through all the trouble of finding one, we were going to have our own. The local park seemed like the best option, so we headed there with our instruments to survey the land. It was a lot smaller than I remembered.   
“How many people do you think we could fit here?” Gord asked me.   
“How about we invite everyone we know and find out,” Angeline suggested. “We do know a lot of people.”   
“I think you know a lot of people,” he said.  
I ran to the nearest phone booth, pulled out my address book, and started dialing. Using the money from Jerry’s wallet to pay for it, of course. It turned out that all the people we knew were busy because it’s 2:30 on a Monday and unlike us, these people had real jobs. I called one last number in desperation.   
Jerry saw that nothing was getting done and went to go buy some food. “Justinian! Did you take all my money?”  
“It was a necessity.”   
“Did you get anyone or did all my hard earned money go to waste?” He crossed his arms, trying to sound like a disappointed mother.   
“As always, Strawberry Man is reliable.”   
“We gotta get his name, he’s a life saver.”   
“If I have a silly name like Glitter Glam, Strawberry Man should be allowed to have one too.” Angeline pointed out.   
“No one is saying he’s not allowed to be called that, literally no one has asked his name.” said Del.  
“Angeline, I have never heard anyone call you Glitter Glam, it’s a stupid name and we shouldn’t have let you put it on the record,” Gord remarked with annoyance.   
When Strawberry Man arrived, I told him to walk across the entire park and count how many steps it took him. He asked me why I couldn’t do it myself. I told him our platform boots would never survive through such rough terrain. Del gave Jerry some money because we hadn’t eaten lunch. Strawberry Man returned quite a while later, having lost count several times. I had no idea what to do with the number, I just thanked him and invited him to stay for lunch.   
“Is it still lunch time?”  
“Lunch time is a construct. I will not allow anyone to decide when I have my meals but me.”  
Jerry rolled by on a bicycle. “Lunch time was invented by the factories so people would all go on lunch break at the same time.”   
“I don’t think that’s true,” I said, standing up and following him. “Where’d you get a bike?”  
“You thought I was gonna walk all the way here and back? In these shoes?,” he laughed, tossing us sandwiches.   
I took a bite of the sandwich and discovered there was nothing inside.   
“You may have noticed I have given you two slices of bread disguised as a sandwich. This is because I didn’t have money for the sandwich shop but luckily had this right at home.” He threw a half empty package of bread on the ground. “Go wild.”   
I picked up the bread and tossed a piece at a duck. It hit her on the head and didn’t go as planned. “You had money for sandwiches, Del gave you plenty.”  
“Didn’t have any left over after the bike.”  
Del was trying to retrieve the bread from the angered duck. “You spent my money on a bike? Really?”  
“We can all use it,” he explained, trying to make up for his irresponsible decision.   
We sat around the duck infested pond and ate the bread. I was content with the work we did today, soon we will be playing by this lake and I knew it would go wonderfully.   
“Justinian, you cannot let the ducks eat this bread. It’s bad for them.”   
I was laying down in the grass, about to fall asleep, when Jerry disturbed me with his hippie bullshit. I threw the bread at him. When it got dark and it was time to leave we took turns riding the bike on our way to my house.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Justinian falls from a tree and the band organizes a "music fesival"

Chapter Two  
In the morning I called the number that was listed in the telephone book under “park” and inquired about a reservation so there wouldn’t be any extra people milling about. The man on the line informed me the park was already reserved next weekend, and I’d have to wait.  
“How dare you tell me to wait? Do you know who I am?”  
He hung up, so even if he didn’t, he would never learn. The band was faced with an obstacle keeping us from greatness once again. I got on the phone and called everyone to come back. We stayed up partying last night, as rock n roll bands do, and the only person that wasn’t gone by morning was Strawberry Man, who was sleeping on the top of my car. I thought it would be rude to disturb him so I left him there overnight.  
Angeline stood on my couch and started singing broadway songs, so I had to wait to seek advice from my bandmates. Two songs later I had had enough.  
I stood on the table (which was higher than the couch) and announced, “We have to take the park by force.” I waited for Angeline to climb down from her position to continue, “Someone else has reserved it at the time that Better Than Woodstock is supposed to happen.”  
“You’re calling it Better Than Woodstock? Seems like you’re going into this with higher standards than the rest of us,” Del responded.  
“Are we inviting other bands? Woodstock wasn’t just one band, Justinian,” said Gord.  
“I know that! I am aware of things! We will be better than every band at Woodstock.”  
Angeline shook her head. “Ooh, I don’t know if we can ever be as good as Jefferson Airplane.”  
“We will be. When this goes well, which it will, and we’re famous, you will be able to get a date with Grace Slick.”  
“Is that a promise? That’s enough motivation to do anything.”  
“It’s a promise. Jerry, can you make copies of that poster you made earlier? This time we need to advertise.”  
“Yes, Mr. Pickles, right away.”  
I watched him take the bike from my porch and pedal off.  
“Are we going to have the same set list, or are we changing anything?” Del asked.  
“That’s a good question,” said Gord, putting on a David Bowie record. “Have you written anything?”  
I looked at the floor, ready to make some excuse.  
“On this topic,” Del spoke to Gord, “I was going to ask if we could record a song my girlfriend wrote?”  
“That sounds like a good idea, what do you think, Justinian?” he looked at me, forgetting I didn’t answer the original question.  
“Sure, that’s okay with me.”  
“Cool, I’ll tell her right away,” Del thanked me, and then added, “Oh, she also wanted to play rhythm guitar or sing… is that alright?”  
If someone replaced my voice I’d have absolutely no purpose. I couldn’t let myself be replaced.  
“Fine! Just replace me!” I stormed out of the room, already regretting my words.  
I flopped on my bed and threw a blanket over myself, making frustrated noises into my pillow like a teenager who was told they couldn’t go to a party. I really should've just told them how I felt, now I just look like a moron. I left through the window so no one would try to bother me. I didn’t feel like walking so I had to find a place to hide in case someone came looking. I was going to take extreme measures to avoid this conflict. There were no good hiding places in my yard, but I had to think of something quick. I climbed up the nearest tree like a disabled squirrel. I got comfortable in my hiding place and wondered if I would have to live there forever. I thought I could do that if I needed to. Then I heard Del calling my name. I panicked and stayed as still as possible.  
“Justinian? Are you out here? I’m sorry if I upset you.”  
I closed my eyes while she passed by the tree, silently thanking her for not looking up. I shifted my arm to a lower branch so I had more room to move. The branch was covered in moss and I struggled to get a good grip without flailing my body about. I reached with my other arm to balance myself and I hit something squishy. A spider. I screamed and completely lost my grip, falling from the tree.  
Del stood over me and said, “Found you.”  
I propped myself up to answer her, “Ouch. I think I hurt my leg.”  
“The moral of this story is if you avoid confrontation you get injured.”  
“My leg is in pain! I am in pain. This is a crisis.” I waved my arms around to emphasize the word crisis.  
“Do you want me to get someone? ...Transport you somewhere, maybe?”  
“No, I’m fine just staying here and dying.”  
She left me to suffer on the grass, promising to come back with assistance. She brought back the whole band for a viewing of my foolishness and suffering.  
“I can’t believe you fell out of a tree,” Angeline said, badly hiding her laughter.  
“Don’t be rude,” Gord shot her a look of disapproval. “We’re taking you to the emergency room. Does it feel broken?”  
“I am a broken man, dear Gordon, my mind and my body.”  
So, we took a field trip to the emergency room. Overall it was a painful and regrettable experience. Angeline and Jerry kept getting separated from the main group, prompting search parties, I had to be wheeled around in a stupid chair, and the doctors put a cast on me so I was immobile. My crutches didn’t fit very well in the back of the van and it didn’t help that I was purposely hitting anyone that I could (for entertainment).  
“Stop wacking me with that!” Angeline complained, shielding her face from my attacks.  
“You laugh at my pain, I inflict pain on you.”  
“It’s a little funny… what kind of person falls from a tree?”  
“Me! This kind of person!” I yell, pointing at myself, hitting my own head with the crutches.  
“Why do we always have to go places together? We could've made this trip so much easier with half as many people,” Gord said, turning around to ask me.  
I explained, “Only one of us owns a vehicle, and I don’t trust you guys alone at my house, so this is the only option.”  
“We get to go on adventures as a group,” Jerry added. “It’s much more fun that way.”  
Gord dropped me off at home without anyone mentioning my earlier outburst. I had no reason to think about my problem anymore, and if I could stop thinking about it, it would cease to exist. I sat on the couch to watch T.V. and to distract me from my leg, which only seemed to be there to remind me how stupid I could be. When I woke up Jerry was knocking on my door. He brought along a package of hair dye.  
“What are you planning to do with that?” I asked, watching him open the package and throw it away without reading the directions.  
“I’m gonna dye my hair purple.”  
“Oh. Why are you doing that here?”  
He shrugged and turned on the water to wash his hair. I hobbled to the stove to make tea but the combination of the small kitchen, my brokenness, and Jerry spraying water all over the place every time he moved was making it difficult.  
“Jerry, I’m disabled now, I am in pain, I need tea.”  
He took the kettle and filled it with water, handing it back to me. I turned my attention to putting it on the burner and looking for something to make for breakfast. From the corner of my eye I saw a purple splash and heard an “oops.”  
“You aren’t supposed to just pour it on your head,” I scolded, crossing my arms.  
“I didn’t know that!” Jerry yelled, frantically spreading the purple goop on the rest of his long hair.  
I didn’t have enough energy to stop him from making a mess so I watched with mild amusement. I took a sip from my tea and sent him off to the bathroom so my entire kitchen wouldn’t be turned purple. I looked through my records for something to listen to and got lost in thought about the music festival. There was still some major planning to be done, such as deciding where we were going to do it since the park is taken. I liked the idea of “taking it by force,” as I said earlier, however that had a small chance of working and even though it would be fun, it wouldn’t get us what we needed. I lay down on the carpet letting the music surround me and my brain empty.  
Jerry strolled out into the room to show me his newly coloured hair. “I did it!”  
I was surprised he managed to do it right, but he did. “Good job, you’re very bright now,” I said, sitting up to get a closer look. Something else seemed different but I couldn’t place it.  
“Dude, where are your eyebrows?”  
“I choose not to answer or explain.”  
I shook my head and laughed, motioning for him to join me on the floor. We listened to a couple albums while the sun went down. My house wasn’t very big but the back wall facing the west had a huge window that let in every last bit of the fading light. Jerry retrieved his guitar case from where he left it at the door (he brings it everywhere) and strummed the chords to a Pink Floyd song.  
“That reminds me,” he said, stopping, “When are you gonna show me the stuff you’ve written?”  
I reached up to my notebook on the table, tossing it to him. He flipped through all the empty pages until he got to the one page with words on it. Looking away and blushing, I said, “That’s all I could do.”  
“It’s something,” he reassured me, “I’ll try to write music for it.”  
“Thanks. You staying?”  
“Why not? Sleepover time!” he jumped up, grabbing the cushions on my couch and stacking them up.  
He dragged me into his finished pillow fort then we talked all night about the things we’d do once we were famous. We also talked about what to do for the festival. Jerry suggested that we do it in his garden. I didn’t know how that was going to work, who’s gonna know to come to a garden? However, I trusted my friend and it was better than anything I could've come up with at the moment. In the morning I asked him to teach me guitar so we spent the whole day on that project. It wasn’t nearly as hard as it looked. Jerry went home to do whatever he did when I wasn’t watching. I’d known him for years but parts of him were still a mystery to me. For the most part I stayed inside for the following few weeks to heal. In addition to “healing” I was studying a guitar book someone left here with the purpose of not looking weird on stage swinging around a microphone like Mick Jagger but shorter and a lot more awkward. During this time I came to peace with the idea of Clover, Del’s girl, contributing to the band. I had some time to think about it and I was acting pretty ridiculous.  
Now that we had some more solid plans for the music festival, I was going to take measures to be better prepared than our last concert. We didn’t even think to put on any makeup other than the various shades of lipstick Del had in her purse, and makeup was like, our whole thing. I took a taxi to the department store to buy something new and flashy for the show. On the way I saw a record store and stopped to see if they had our album. I flipped through the new section and there it was! Colossal Hoax: Sketchy, But Impending. The name was designed to get people to buy it, I didn’t remember how that was supposed to work. I moved the album to the front so more people would see it. A woman noticed this action and looked at me funny.  
“Wow, this album looks really interesting and good, I think! What a title! Really makes me want to buy it,” I said in hopes someone would hear me and think it was something worth listening to. Instead I just got more funny looks.  
“Are you going to buy it, then?” the woman who already noticed me asked.  
“Uh! Yes! I’m buying it and I suggest everyone do the same!”  
I bought the album and got out of the store as fast as I possibly could with my limited movements due to my crutches. I then went to my original destination, the makeup section in the department store. I bought the cheapest, most vibrant things I could find, telling the woman at the counter it was a present for a girl, and got another taxi back home. I put some eyeshadow on because I had nothing better to do. Another day was coming to an end and I went to bed without taking the makeup off, it was too much work anyway.  
When I woke up I went on a hunt for a guitar, since not practising wasn’t doing me any good. An instrument would be a good investment to make with any money we got from album sales. I told Angeline what I was up to when she called me earlier and she insisted on coming along. When we visited the cheaper music store that was near us (not the one where we took the piano) we found a couple cool looking guitars, there was one in a kind of heart shape that I especially liked.  
“This goes with our image pretty well, hm?” I asked Angeline, showing her the guitar.  
“Oh, yeah, very flashy. You could paint some glitter on it,” she agreed.  
We left without buying it, it would be a good award for when we made some more money. She then had the brilliant idea of painting my cast with her glittery clear paint. There were really too many art projects going on in my kitchen.  
“What if you destroy my leg forever with this mystery paint,” I asked.  
She shook her head at my paranoia. “It says right here that it’s paint! Not a mystery.”  
Angeline completely covered my leg in the stuff. I wanted to complain but really I was having a good time rambling on about my life while she finished my cast and then painted her black platform boots. When I met her I thought she was weird and self-absorbed, and however true that is, she turned out to be a good friend in the end. Jerry introduced us a couple years ago when we were still just some kind of Simon and Garfunkel duo and she was looking for a band. We got to know each other pretty well before Colossal Hoax was completely formed, before any serious musical things were being done and most of our time was spent fucking around doing nothing.  
I inquired about her trip to France and she told me about fancy hotels and shopping and of course, girls. At first it was weird having two entire lesbians in the band but after a while it seemed normal, after all, I could definitely relate to liking women. Angeline met Del at a gay bar when she told her she looked like a musician. Del was for the most part a quiet person, completely opposing everything about Angeline. Despite that they got along well and became good friends.  
When she finished telling me every event of interest about her trip she casually mentioned that she might have a French girlfriend named Pearl.  
“Is that a French name?” I asked, asking the most important questions first.  
“It’s just a name,” she answered, “She doesn’t speak much English but I know French well enough.”  
One thing I knew about Angeline is that she never took her studies seriously and refused to pursue any higher education than the basic necessities. “When’d this happen? You knowing French?”  
“I wouldn't go somewhere without being able to communicate,” she said, as if I should already know. “It was amusing to watch Jerry run around Paris saying ‘Eiffel Towel” while trying to find a bathroom, though.”  
I laughed, feeling a little sad and left out. Jerry was my best friend, I should've been the one to spontaneously go somewhere with him. Being selfish about friends was one of my negative traits. I also didn’t like it when my friends knew people that I didn’t know, especially if they were dating them! Boyfriends and girlfriends are masters of taking love and attention away from me. Which brought me to my next question, “Can I meet Pearl?”  
“She does live in France, which is not here.”  
“Obviously. She should come here. We have to uh, approve her, or something.”  
“The girlfriend approval process, how could I forget!” She exclaimed, smiling, “Such an important part of friendship, having you like my partner.”  
“Using the term partner? How intimate is this? Just a minute ago you said you ‘might’ have a girlfriend.”  
“I was just being broad, I wasn’t talking about her specifically. I do think she’s my girlfriend though. It can be a bit vague with long distance things, y’know.”  
I’d never had a long distance relationship, actually, so I didn’t know. I’d only had a couple girlfriends in my life, unfortunately I always seemed to get distracted by other things in life to pay attention to dating. When we were famous I was counting on a lot of people wanting to date me, so I wasn’t too worried that I was going to be alone forever. Most of the time I’ve known Angeline she had a girlfriend, I don’t know where she was finding the supply, but she had plenty. Del on the other hand had been with the same woman for the longest time. I’d only met Clover once or twice and she was exactly the kind of person I’d expect Del to be with. They were both quiet, sweet, and understanding, though Clover was more of a hippie. She was a painter and always involved in some artsy project with Del. I had a couple of her paintings in my house since Del encouraged me to support Clover’s art. She was pretty good at it, the paintings looked liked George Harrison’s colourful guitar put on a canvas.  
Angeline was putting the paint away and cleaning anything that spilled off the floor. I was thankful for her thoughtfulness because I couldn’t get to the right angle to pick anything up no matter how hard I tried. I waited for her to give some indication of what was next in the course of events. She tried to look at her watch but it was on the wrong hand. I assumed she was looking for an excuse to leave or she had an appointment.  
“I’m supposed to have a meeting with Stanley some time soon.”  
“He really isn’t doing his job. Why do we need a manager anyway?”  
“I don’t know! Everyone has one. Peer pressure. He wants to discuss album sales.”  
“I hope we’ve had some. I’m starting to think he’s more trouble than he’s worth, making us pay for our car and being so bossy about what we make.”  
“I agree, but where are we gonna find another one? We’ll be ok,” she says, heading towards the door. “I better go, see you later!”  
I waved goodbye and locked the door, feeling the sudden loneliness that comes when guests leave and the house is empty. I enjoyed going in the studio almost every day when we were recording the album because it gave me a reason to see my friends, I felt a little depressed without the frequent company. I reminded myself that I did have things to do besides stand there feeling lonely, mainly to set the date for the music festival. I asked Jerry when he was here and he said any time was fine with him. Saturday seemed like a good day, it would give us a couple days to rehearse and time for Jerry to advertise like he said he would. After writing that down, I was still just standing there. I went back to the doctor to get my cast taken off the other day and I was dying to move around so went for a stroll to give myself a distraction. I walked down to the area where a few stores were gathered and music and the smell of cooking food spilled out the opening and closing doors. I picked up some food for dinner and headed back home, listening to wind shaking through the trees on the way.  
The next time I saw the band we were in Jerry’s yard, about to rehearse for the last time before Saturday, when it started to rain. The instruments were taken to shelter but my hair was not spared.  
“I’m all soggy!” I complained to my bandmates, holding Jerry’s guitar while he gathered up various chords to put them away.  
“You know what they say,” Gord said, “Mullets catch more rain than normal, acceptable haircuts.”  
I couldn’t think of an appropriate response so I nodded, as if it was actually something that was said. Outside the window the sky lit up with lightning. I stood by the window to watch the rain get heavier as it hit the glass.  
“Hey, uh, if it’s gonna rain tomorrow we’re fucked,” Gord pointed out.  
“Oops! Didn’t think of that!” Jerry exclaimed before sitting down and picking up a magazine instead of offering any solution.  
I started some meaningless conversation to keep the mood cheerful. Angeline told us she talked to Pearl today and she told her she would be coming to the concert. I was nervous about meeting her, I was always awkward with meetings. Jerry then brought up the idea of adopting a pet, so we reviewed the pros and cons of every animal we could think of. It ended with us all hysterically laughing, trying to think of a single good thing that could come from owning a rabid raccoon. By the time I got home the rain was pounding on the roof and the wind was making weird noises. But, hey, it rained at Woodstock, right?  
In the morning it was still raining. It seemed to be dying down, so I headed over to Jerry’s. When I got out of the taxi I was greeted with his completely swamped garden.  
I spotted Jerry fishing something out of a flower pot. “Hey! It’s a little damp, innit?”  
“It’s no problem,” he said, awalking over to me.  
“Are we gonna have little boats for everyone to stand on or…?”  
“It’s not that deep, see?” He shoved me nearer to the flooded area.  
I got a closer look and observed that it wasn't really that bad, maybe no one would notice. Eventually the rest of my band members arrived and by the time we were set up a good bunch of people were gathered. Everything was on the driest part of the deck and sufficiently safe. I handed out the new makeup I got for the band. All of us were wearing some type of bright, ridiculous suit, Jerry looked like a rainbow with his hair, red jacket, and green pants. Gord apparently didn’t get the memo because he was wearing a boring turtleneck that got thrown off halfway through the show.  
We went through the same set as before and besides the setting, of course, the concert went pretty much as well as the last one did. Some people seemed more interested in smoking pot than the music, but they did pay to be here. I played Angeline’s spare guitar on a couple of easier songs which made me feel much better about my musical talent. At the end of each song I waited for a girl or two to scream like they did at Beatles concerts. No one screamed, but I told myself not to be disappointed, we were aiming for Woodstock, not the Beatles. They weren’t at Woodstock right? In general I thought we seemed to achieve the music festival vibes without actually being a music festival. After the last song I sat down on the “stage” to try to cool down. They never talk about how heated these intricate outfits get. Angeline brought over a woman with cat eye eyeliner matching the colour of her hair. The way she was holding her hand I assumed it was Pearl. She introduced herself to me, confirming that she was in fact Pearl. Angeline told me it was the only English sentence she knew so I shouldn’t expect anything else. I tried to tell her my name using a french word but I didn’t know any so it just sounded like a jumble of sounds. She nodded and shook my hand. I had nothing to say after that so I left to go change just as Del walked up.  
Jerry’s kitchen was refreshing after being outside for so long. I put on the shirts that we painted our band name on so I still looked like a member. I looked out the glass door and suddenly felt very left out watching my friends having a good time. Jerry was talking to a couple of guys with some funky makeup when I walked outside. They told me the show was good and they would buy the album. I smiled and thanked them, leaving them alone with Jerry who had started playing riffs on his guitar to impress them. I sat on the ground talking to Gord about various uninteresting things until our fans (hopefully they considered themselves fans) left and he offered to drive us home. We were tired so it was mostly silent besides Angeline and Pearl talking in French. As I was getting out of the van Gord asked us to come over to his house the next day to celebrate. I agreed since anything was better than staying home. I sat on my bed looking at our record before I went to sleep. After today it felt more like an actual record, not just something my friends and I put together. The cover was a little weird and the music wasn’t the best, could people actually be interested in this? All of a sudden I was regretting the whole glam thing, if we were a normal rock band we would sell faster. People probably thought we were gay freaks. To be fair, we were. If people wanted gay freaks, they would listen to Bowie, not us.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> silly band goes on silly trip to america,,, :o what will they find

Chapter Three  
I took a taxi to Gord’s in the morning. He lived with his parents who greeted me at the door and told me the band was in the basement. I walked down the dark steps and Gord threw me a party hat.  
“What’s this?” I asked, balancing it on the top of my hair.  
“We’re extra-celebrating, we got enough money to pay for Stanley’s car,” he answered.   
“Groovy. Should we mail it to him?”  
“I think you should take it to him since this was all your doing,” Del said.  
I laughed nervously. “Uh, that makes it seem like I did all the work to get the money, wouldn’t want to, um, take the credit.”  
“Yeah, but no one else wants to go and we’re pinning the responsibility on you,” Gord explained, handing me the money.  
I stuffed it in my pocket and noticed that the phone was ringing. It was barely audible over the music so I notified Gord. Angeline picked it up like she was expecting a call and turned down the music so we were all forced to sit awkwardly listening to her phone call, which must have been from Pearl since she was speaking French. When she got off the phone she said Pearl had to go back to France and she called to say goodbye.  
“Aw, that’s too bad,” I said, patting Angeline’s hand. “She was only here for like, a day.”   
“Did she stay at your house last night?” Del asked, the expert in relationships.   
“Yeah,” Angeline answered, blushing.   
“And she just leaves the next day? Wow,” I sighed, feeling sorry for my friend.  
“I don’t know about this one,” Del said, “That’s not a cool thing to do.”  
Angeline sat down beside Del.“I don’t know, maybe she had an emergency.”   
“Do people actually have emergencies? Every time someone has said that to me it’s seemed sketchy,” said Jerry.   
Realistically, I thought she’d never hear from Pearl again, but I didn’t say it because who knows? She might have had an emergency. Jerry tried to distract Angeline by asking her to braid his hair. I put the music back on and tried to get in a better mood. I was anxious because I still didn’t feel like we were a band. We didn’t rehearse every day or play at clubs every night. We were just sitting in a basement, not even a proper party.   
“Were we gonna play some songs tonight?” I ask over the conversation the four were having.   
“There’s no drums here,” Del said, “I’m sure we’ll have time soon, don’t worry.”  
“Alright,” I murmured, at least she seemed to understand that I was worried.   
I joined in the conversation when Jerry brought up the idea of getting a pet again. He told us he wanted a mouse and had spent many hours deciding this.   
“Why don’t we go to a pet store tomorrow?” I said.  
The next day I met Jerry at the front of the pet store. He arrived on his bike which was supposed to be our bike and tied it to a pole.   
“How much do you think they charge for mice?” I asked, opening the door for him.   
“Shit, they charge you money for mice?” He exclaimed, stopping half way through the door.   
“Well, what were you thinking-” I stopped as Jerry tip-toed over to a cage full of mice, picked one up, and went right back out the door. I wanted to yell but I wasn’t going to attract attention and incriminate him. Unlike the guitarist, I was thinking rationally, so I bought the necessary mouse supplies with the money I had leftover from the concerts. I struggled carrying the cage and opening the door at the same time. I dropped the stuff by the bike once I got outside and looked for Jerry, who was trying to get the mouse out of his sleeve.   
“He’s really lodged in there, Justinian.”   
“I can’t believe you did that.”  
He smiled when the mouse finally got jostled out. “I didn’t want to do it! The feeling came over me, man, I had to free him.”  
I couldn’t help but laugh, maybe I should’ve been mad but really there was no harm done. “We better take this stuff home,” I said, handing him the bag, “I gotta head over to Stanley’s.”  
“Oh, yeah, of course. Why don’t you ride the bike and I’ll carry the stuff?”  
I got on the bike and found that I was too short to reach the pedals. Jerry must have adjusted the seat for his long legs. I demanded he fix it immediately. I held his mouse while he fixed the bike, petting his little head with my finger. When the bike was finished, I gently gave the tiny animal back to Jerry and hopped on, hoping I wouldn’t fall off. I never rode bikes much, walking was the better alternative for me because I often got distracted when I was outside, and walking made that less of a hazard. After a couple blocks I stopped losing my balance and rode it successfully back to Jerry’s house.   
“Before I go, what are you gonna name the mouse?”   
“B… Berry! It rhymes,” he paused to gauge my reaction. “With Jerry. My name.”  
“Oh!” I didn’t hear him talking at first because I was focused on the little guy nibbling on Jerry’s sleeve. “That’s cute, but confusing.”  
“You think you’re going to confuse me with a mouse?”  
“No, I mean I’m gonna call you Berry because they sound the same and eventually no one will know who is who.”  
“I’m alright with that.”  
“Well, if you are, so am I. Mind if I take the bike today?”  
“Sure, have fun!”  
The time it takes to get to Stanley’s house flashes by. I handed him the money and thanked me. I was happy that he wasn’t planning to be mad at me forever. I took my time on the ride home, dreaming up song lyrics to write when I got home.   
The next time I saw the band we were meeting up at Del’s apartment where we rehearsed as quietly as possible until it was obvious that this wasn’t the right situation to play any instrument and I understood why Del’s drums should stay in the studio.   
She stood up from her stool, tossing the drumstick on a table. “Yeah, I didn’t think about that when I brought them home to practise. Guess we’ll have to find somewhere else.”   
After paying for Stanley’s car, we didn’t have much to do, besides record an album, which was hard and unnecessary since we just did it.   
“How many months are allowed to pass until I can’t say ‘I just did it’ anymore?” I wonder out loud.   
“As many as possible. Procrastination is key to a happy life,” Gord answered.   
I nodded, taking that into consideration. What else could we do… what haven’t we done?   
“Hey, gang, what haven’t we done?” I asked.   
“Visit a farm,” Del said, “I’ve always wanted to. Is that the kind of answer you were looking for?”  
I slap the table with enthusiasm. “That’s perfect! Where do they have farms?”   
“America…” Jerry said, looking out the window that was definitely not facing America.   
“I think they have farms here, too,” I said, also looking out the window trying to figure out what Jerry was looking at.   
“I’ve never seen a farm here,” Angeline added.  
“Are you saying in all of England there are no farms?” Gord asked, directing it to Jerry and Angeline.   
I grab an encyclopedia off a nearby bookshelf and look up cows, the first animal that came to my mind when I thought of farms. I read the entire page, not absorbing one word but feeling smart for reading it. I flip through the C section hoping to find an idea of what to do in cases finding a farm was too hard, since it was turning out to be. I land on California and read the passage to find out farms are not a main feature. If we were going to America to find a farm, where would we go? California was the only American state I could remember. I asked Angeline, since she was from the states. She told us that the south was a good bet.   
“This is so stupid, there’s farms here. Why don’t we drive around and find one,” Gord interrupted.   
“You're missing the point,” I explained, “going to America would be fun and educational!”   
“What would we learn?” he argued.  
“We would learn how to get to America.”   
Gord didn’t have anything to say to that. I called our manager and asked if we could go to America, because that seems like something a rockstar would ask their manager. I had to make up all the details on the spot. He told us we didn’t need to ask to go on a vacation for a week or two and not to bother him with small details about our lives. I was hurt by this comment and planned to call him some point later with a small detail and then hang up. We went through all the difficult preparations of going on a trip, like finding out how many shoes I can fit in a suitcase. I turned up to the airport wearing my best makeup to impress all the women we would encounter.   
“You’re gonna get beat up looking like that,” Del laughed.   
I actually didn’t think of that at all, and I was already gathering looks just standing at the entrance of the airport. I didn’t want to look stupid so I said the first thing that came to my mind, “I’m short, it’s okay.”   
I looked around once we were inside the crowded building. I’d never thought about it before but it was such an interesting place.   
“Have you ever been on a plane before, Justinian?” Angeline asked, “You look so surprised.”  
“I guess I have been, when I moved here when I was younger, but I don’t remember anything about it.”   
My eyes were drawn to a spinning contraption that seemed to be transporting luggage. Jerry followed my line of sight and I had never seen him more excited than he was in that moment.   
“These things are so far out,” he exclaimed, running up to it.  
“You should have been there when he saw one of these for the first time,” Angeline said, watching the guitarist have a fit about the machine.  
“I don’t remember being invited to be there,” I said under my breath.   
Jerry continued to look at the machine, trying to figure something out. Before I could stop him he sat on it and pulled his legs in and yelled at us to come look because he had become a suitcase. I made more of a scene by yelling at him until he got off because I didn’t want him to injure himself and I did want to catch our flight on time.  
After the process that’s required to get through this huge place, we boarded the place. Compared to the airport the place was tiny. Jerry put my bags up and someone made a rude comment about his hair. I pulled him over to his seat before he could make an even ruder response like he always does when someone comments on his hair. After we got settled in Del took her camera out of the bag to take pictures of us. I took off my normal glasses and put on heart shaped ones for the picture.   
“We should've worn matching outfits,” I commented, looking at how we were dressed completely differently.   
“I’m not going out in public looking like any of you,” Gord said from where he was sitting across the aisle with Del.   
“You don’t even dress like us on stage when you’re supposed to,” I said back, coming off more coarse than I meant. I didn’t want to admit it but the plane taking off was making me nervous.  
Angeline started a conversation with the woman she was sitting next to who looked to be about our age. I reminded her of her previous commitments by asking if she’d heard from Pearl.   
“Oh, yeah, some rich guy sent her a telegram so she’s not interested in me anymore,” she turned around to say, not changing the tone of her voice despite how I imagine she was feeling.   
I didn’t know what to say so I asked Jerry what he was looking at out the window.  
“Y’know that Twilight Zone episode with the monkey man out the window? I’m looking for that.”   
“That’s ridiculous, mate, there’s no monsters on the plane,” I said to reassure him.   
“You misunderstand, a monster or a ghost or a monkey man would be groovy as hell.”  
I didn’t think anything of the sort would be groovy at all but I wasn’t going to discourage him from his fun.   
I sat silently for a while, reading a book I threw in my bag without looking at the title. It wasn’t interesting but it was better than reading the boring magazines that were lying around. I closed the book after what felt like forever and stretched my legs, alerting Jerry that I was available for conversation. I heard a squeak from his shirt pocket and Berry peeked out.  
“You took him on a plane?” I asked, thinking that a plane was not the right place for a mouse.  
“He’ll be alright! He’s just sitting here.”  
“Where is his food and his toilet and his wheel?!”   
“Everything is in my suitcase.”  
“If all that’s in your suitcase where are your clothes?”  
“I don’t need any more clothes, I have plenty of clothes right here,” Jerry pointed to the shirt he was wearing.  
I groaned, he was gonna be wearing the same shirt for a week. I kept myself mildly occupied until the only thing I hadn’t done was sleep, and when I woke up I was disappointed to find out we were not there yet.   
“Good morning, Justinian!” Jerry greeted me, handing me my glasses. “These fell off and they were only fun to play with for so long, you can have them back.”  
“Don’t play with my glasses! You’re not a toddler.”  
“Are you suggesting I act like an adult? Wouldn’t that be boring?”  
“Somewhere between an adult and a toddler, please, I’m begging,” I smiled, snatching my glasses back.   
I fell asleep for what ended up being a long time. The time passed much faster when I was asleep, obviously, and I was a big fan of the time on this plane passing faster. It was difficult to process that we were in an entirely different place because the airport felt the same. Of course it was a bit different, but it wasn’t what I imagined to be. I wondered if all airports look the same. As we stepped outside I realised this might not be the place to look for a farm.  
“Dude, this is a city,” Gord pointed out.  
“Yeah, I noticed,” I snapped back. “Do you think there’s farms around the corner or… oh this is just silly, I’ve gotten us into another situation, haven’t I?”  
Del was taking pictures of the others messing around a few feet away, too busy to notice that we were in the wrong place.   
“We don’t have enough money to fly anywhere else but back home. I’m kind of sick of you fucking up, Justinian,” Gord said as he lit a cigarette, a habit he knew I hated.   
“No one else bothered to check! And this was Del’s idea, yell at her.”   
“If we go back to when this all started, we will clearly see you’re the one who said, stupidly, ‘Hey gang, what haven’t we done?’”  
“Well, we haven’t done this, have we? At least I accomplished what I set off to.”  
He grumbled and leaned on the side of the building until Del called us over for a group picture.   
When I explained the situation to the band they weren’t as bothered as Gord, fortunately.   
“Why don’t we just rent a car and drive around until we find a farm?” Del asked.  
“America is bigger than England, that could take quite a bit, especially if we got lost,” Angeline explained to her.   
“We won’t get lost,” Gord insisted, “I’ll drive.”  
“You say this like you’ve never gotten lost,” I said, trying to remember a time he's gotten lost.   
“Yeah, I haven’t. Name one time. We never leave the general area. One of the few times I’ve let you drive you got lost on the way to a restaurant we’ve been to a million times.”  
I didn’t have anything to say to that.  
As Gord suggested, we rented a car. He bought a big map of America and pointed to the east coast. “I think they have farms in Virginia. Read it in a book once.”  
“How do we know they don’t have farms here?” Jerry asked.   
“Yeah, he’s right, this is obviously the city but we should look around first before driving that far.”   
“There’s farms in California,” Angeline confirmed, “I just don’t know where.”  
“You should have a complete map of everything in your country memorised,” Jerry said with a smile.   
“I don’t even live here!” she said back, kicking the back of his seat.   
I tuned out the conversation and looked at the scenery we were passing until it began to get dark. “Where are we staying tonight, guys?”  
“We do seem to be in a place with no hotel,” Jerry said, opening the car door to look around.   
It seems Gord had successfully driven us to the end of civilisation.   
“Geez, how long have we been driving?” I asked, “Looks like we drove right off Earth.”  
“You see a place without grass and say we’re not on Earth,” Angeline laughed.   
I got out of the car to follow Jerry who was walking off into the distance. I didn’t want him to wander off and never come back, like he tends to do. By the time he stopped walking it was completely dark and the moon lightly flickered through the heavy clouds that had gathered. I heard Del yell for us to hurry up and Jerry yell back something I couldn’t quite hear. I was mesmerised by the beauty of the open air in the darkness. I was very small compared to the huge field of empty, flat ground around me. I looked up, feeling a little spark of fear that I would be lifted off the ground and fall into the vastness of the night sky.


End file.
